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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26969950">May the odds (of a date) be ever in your favor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphicScholar/pseuds/SapphicScholar'>SapphicScholar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Supercat &amp; General Danvers Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supergirl (TV 2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(which I read super literally to make nerdy math jokes at nate silver's expense), Day 2: Against the Odds, F/F, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Substitute Teacher AU, Supercat Week, teacher!kara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:15:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26969950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphicScholar/pseuds/SapphicScholar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kara seems to deflate in front of Cat, and Cat hates the guilt she feels seeping into her. With memories of Carter’s excited dinnertime chatter about Ms. Danvers this and Ms. Danvers that, Cat forces herself to say something—anything—to bring back that damn sunny smile. 'I suppose there is a slightly probability—oh, let’s say a 29% chance—that I may have misjudged you and your teaching abilities earlier.'"</p><p>Or the substitute math teacher AU where, despite a rocky beginning, Kara manages to up her odds of landing a date with Cat</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kara Danvers/Cat Grant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Supercat &amp; General Danvers Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>General Danvers &amp; Supercat Week 5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>May the odds (of a date) be ever in your favor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ms. Grant?”</p><p>Cat looks up at the sound of Eve’s tentative knock on her office door. “What part of ‘I am not to be disturbed unless the world is ending’ is so hard to understand?”</p><p>Eve ducks her head, and Cat grinds her teeth, trying to remember that Eve has been the first half-competent assistant HR has sent her in months, that firing her just as she’s getting the hang of things would only make everything worse.</p><p>“It’s just, well, it’s about Carter.”</p><p>Cat’s head snaps up.</p><p>“I know he’s normally the exception.”</p><p>“Always. Not normally.” She’s already up and out of her chair, drawing closer to Eve, whose expression is warring between a pride in having been right about Carter and a fear at suddenly being cornered. “What is it? What’s wrong?’</p><p>“Er, well, his teacher called.”</p><p>A deluge of possible explanations flood Cat’s mind. He’s been injured. He’s being bullied. He’s sick. He tried to stick up to the bullies and got hurt. Horribly injured. So injured he’s been rushed to the hospital.</p><p>“Apparently there were, um, some issues…with maintaining norms of respect in the classroom.”</p><p>Cat’s thoughts grind to a halt. “Impossible.”</p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m just repeating what they said.”</p><p>For a moment, Cat considers demanding the phone number and calling back to show this teacher what it looks like when “norms of respect” are actually disturbed. But she’s always been more effective in person, and within moments, she has her phone, keys, and sunglasses gathered in her hands. “Have my car waiting out front. Cancel my 3pm.”</p><p>“Yes, Ms. Grant.” In a flash, Eve is back at her desk and calling down to Cat’s driver. Cat supposes the girl can live to work another day.</p><p>---</p><p>After a drive spent stewing in her anger at the idea that her son is being blamed—<em>again</em>—for something that she knows wasn’t his fault, Cat is ready for heads to roll.</p><p>The fact that she’s waved through security and ushered into a conference room with little fanfare is almost disappointing. Perhaps Eve called ahead to warn them… Or maybe the damn school has finally learned to expect a fight when they have the audacity to look at her perfect boy and suggest that <em>he</em> was instigating fights with boys twice his size.</p><p>A moment or two later, a young woman nudges open the door to the conference room with her hip, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she struggles to balance two steaming cups of coffee without spilling them. (Though, truth be told, Cat’s of the opinion that a stain permanently marring the poly-blend monstrosity of a cardigan the woman is wearing might be a vast improvement for everyone involved.)</p><p>“I grabbed an extra coffee if you want one—and the good stuff, not the gross instant coffee they leave in the faculty lounge.” The woman beams as she places a cup in front of Cat, then slides forward a small container with packets of sweetener.</p><p>Cat’s shocked to find the coffee is not only passable, but also properly hot. She’s more shocked, however, when the woman sits down across from her.</p><p>“Are you here to tell me when I can expect Dr. Conway?”</p><p>“Oh! Sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Kara. Kara Danvers.”</p><p>Cat blinks.</p><p>“I’m covering for Mrs. Isaacson in the advanced math program while she’s out on maternity leave. Carter is one of my students.”</p><p>Cat recalls Carter’s mentioning a new long-term sub starting last week. She’s fairly certain he was raving about a Ms. Danvers, though this woman is…not at all what she expected. And has apparently earned her son’s approval only to turn around and hurt him. She sets her coffee down and feels her lips curl back into a sneer. “So you’ve been here a week and think you know enough about ongoing class dynamics to blame my son for your failure to control your classroom?”</p><p>Kara’s brow crinkles, then smooths out after a moment. She shifts her coffee to the side and pulls out a small notebook. “Ms. Grant, I’m not sure what the front office told you when they called, but I just asked if they could schedule a meeting with you after a bit of an…incident in class today.”</p><p>“And I can assure you that Carter was not at fault. He was bullied mercilessly at his old school. I was promised that things would be better here, but clearly that’s not the case if he’s already being blamed for—”</p><p>“Ms. Grant?”</p><p>Cat glares at the sudden interruption and the daring hand that is currently covering her own.</p><p>“Carter has friends in the advanced math class, I promise. There are a few…problem students in the grade, but any time I’m on lunch duty, I make sure they’re not giving him or anyone else trouble. And I’d know better than to think someone sticking up for themselves was the problem, okay?”</p><p>“Then why am I here?”</p><p>“Well, we’re working on our statistics unit now. I mentioned that it’s a unit my students often enjoy, since it has more obvious real world applications than, say, calculus.” Cat barely inclines her head, motioning for Kara to continue. “I was asking for examples from the class, and one student mentioned polling, which led to a conversation about statistics and elections and journalists like Nate Silver, which—”</p><p>Cat lets out a snort. “He’ll have to pry that title from my cold, dead hands.”</p><p>Kara’s lips quirk upwards, and she hides it with a sip of her coffee. “Right, well, that’s sort of where the issue was.” She folds her hands in front of her and holds Cat’s gaze—and okay, Cat will maybe give her credit for that. “You see, Carter made a few rather pointed critiques of Nate Silver.”</p><p>“As he should.”</p><p>“Right, sure, and I’m not upset with him for having an opinion, I want to make that clear.”</p><p>“I would hope not.”</p><p>“In fact, he presented a rather impressive breakdown of the flaws in his mathematical modeling.”</p><p>“And so the problem is…? Are you a closeted Nate Silver fan? Secretly tweeting about him being the prophet of politics?”</p><p>“A closeted…what? No.” Kara shakes her head and lets out a loud sigh. “Ms. Grant, some of the students in the class were excited to learn how to do something like political polling, and they <em>do</em> like Nate Silver. For me, part of being a good teacher means encouraging that enthusiasm and helping to cultivate it. I don’t think he meant to do it, but Carter’s comments were heard as dismissive by some of the other students.”</p><p>Cat can feel her shoulders tensing, but for the moment, she keeps quiet, lets Kara continue on. It’s always better when they dig their own graves first.</p><p>“He’s a great kid and a brilliant student. He’s self-motivated, and it barely takes any effort to get him engaged with the math we’re learning. I don’t think he meant any harm by his comments, and we talked after class, but I wanted to talk to you just to make sure you got the full story.”</p><p>“What did you speak to my son about?”</p><p>“I told him why I cut off the conversation, made sure he knew he wasn’t in trouble but understood why it matters to let other students be enthusiastic without telling them they’re wrong—at least with something like this, where it’s not harmful.”</p><p>“Tell that to people who actually understand politics,” Cat huffs.</p><p>Another half-smile hidden behind the now-empty coffee cup. “Like I said, he’s great to have in class. He’s smart, and he clearly learns a lot from you, at least judging by the number of times he quoted you today.” It’s Cat’s turn to hide her own proud smile. “I made sure he knew that he’s always welcome to come talk to me outside of class about his concerns or, ya know, give me his latest incisive critique of some talking head with no experience in politics or journalism. But obviously he needs time to feel comfortable with me, so I wanted to talk to you in case he has questions or things he wants to talk through with someone he does trust.” Kara shrugs like it’s simple, like she’s not the first teacher in years to understand that trust and connections aren’t instantaneous for Carter.</p><p>And Cat wants to be angry, can still feel anger thrumming through her veins, but somehow she can’t bring herself to direct it at this frustrating woman with her hideous cardigan and her overly chipper smile and her distractingly blue eyes. She finally settles on a snippy: “You might have a talk with the front office about how they communicate the desire for simple conversations to parents.”</p><p>Rubbing at the back of her neck, Kara ducks her head. “Ah yeah I’m sorry. I’m still learning how things work here and thought I had to fill out this elaborate form just to get a call made to a parent.” She shakes her head. “I mean, technically you do have to, but I guess most teachers only do it for when there are real problems. I’m sorry if it stressed you out.”</p><p>Ignoring the seconds of pure panic she’d felt at thinking Carter was being bullied once more, Cat scoffs. “Don’t overestimate your abilities.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>Kara seems to deflate in front of Cat, and Cat hates the guilt she feels seeping into her. With memories of Carter’s excited dinnertime chatter about Ms. Danvers this and Ms. Danvers that, Cat forces herself to say something—anything—to bring back that damn sunny smile. “I suppose there is a slightly probability—oh, let’s say a 29% chance—that I may have misjudged you and your teaching abilities earlier.”</p><p>Kara grins and shrugs her shoulders. “You were working off past precedent. At least you were upfront about what went into your predictive modeling.”</p><p>Cat barely stifles a snort of laughter.</p><p>“I should go clean up my classroom before I head home, but it was nice meeting you, Ms. Grant.”</p><p>“Mm perhaps under better circumstances next time.”</p><p>Not that Cat actually thinks there will be a next time. The rare exception notwithstanding, Carter isn’t exactly the kind of student whose parents are frequently being called to school, and Cat’s more of a donate-and-hang-up kind of mom than a PTA-and-bake-sales volunteer.</p><p>But when Carter comes home two weeks later begging Cat to fill in for Mr. Jacobi who’s gone and broken his leg two days before the science fair, she can’t find it within herself to say no—not when Carter has spent long nights hard at work on his project.</p><p>Of course, it isn’t until the night before her shift that she finds out Mr. Jacobi had the unenviable task of set up, which means showing up at 6am to lug tables and chairs into the auditorium. A small part of her wonders if Mr. Jacobi made a strategic decision in breaking his leg this week.</p><p>Cat scowls the whole drive to the school, clutching her latte like a lifeline. She tries to tell herself that it’s just like her morning pilates classes. Except germier. And with a much higher possibility that she’ll end up with broken toes.</p><p>She groans and has to force herself out of the car when they arrive.</p><p>“Ms. Grant! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Kara beams and waves, once more looking far too chipper for the circumstances.</p><p>Cat’s brow furrows. “You don’t work in the science department.”</p><p>“Oh, well, one of my degrees is actually in biochemistry. But, you know, I go where they need me, and this term it was math.”</p><p>Cat’s still stuck on the degrees plural as Kara begins explaining the arrangement of the tables, and which students need larger tables, and where they’ll be placed, and how wide the aisles should be for accessibility best practices, and a hundred-and-one other details that Cat only half catches.</p><p>Caffeine. She should have more of it. Hell, Kara seems to be mainlining it if her energy levels are any indication.</p><p>She’s already inspecting a few of the tables by the time Cat’s put her purse down.</p><p>“Do you mind if I take off the sweater?” Kara asks. “The tables seem a little dirty, and I want to look professional at the science fair.”</p><p>A thousand possible replies crowd Cat’s thoughts. <em>Actually, it’s the sweater itself that Cat minds. What is Carter’s exorbitant tuition paying for if not a baseline of cleanliness? Really, anything would look more professional than that sweater. </em></p><p>But Cat doesn’t get a chance to point out any of these things.</p><p>Because suddenly Kara is slipping off her cardigan to reveal a thin white tank top and the most perfect set of arms that Cat thinks she’s ever seen.</p><p>Screw pilates, clearly she needs to start substitute teaching.</p><p>“Ms. Grant?”</p><p>“What?” Cat snaps.</p><p>“Oh, I, uh, I wanted to see if you were ready?”</p><p>Cat’s fairly certain she’s ready to do anything Kara might suggest. But then she spots the table and a corner that looks distinctly tacky with some unidentifiable sticky substance. It doesn’t quite murder the mood, though Cat thinks manslaughter charges might not be a stretch.</p><p>Still, the work is a good distraction.</p><p>At least until they’re halfway through set up and she looks up to find Kara’s skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. And it’s just not fair. No one is supposed to look like that when they sweat—at least not outside of Hollywood movies and teen dramas.</p><p>She’s fairly certain Kara catches her staring a couple of times. At the very least, she definitely notices when Cat trips into a stack of chairs at the sight of Kara bending over to fix a wobbly table leg.</p><p>Still, Cat’s fairly certain Kara’s putting on a show. There’s no other reason why Kara would choose to carry a few of the tables by herself while insisting that Cat “rests.” And there seems to be an inordinate amount of flexing involved whenever Cat’s close enough to appreciate it—and appreciate it she does.</p><p>But soon enough, the tables and chairs are all assembled, and it’s time for students to start arriving (and past time for Cat to get to work and start terrorizing her staff into productivity).</p><p>“Well, were these circumstances better?” Kara asks as Cat gathers up her belongings.</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“A couple weeks ago?  You said you hoped next time we met it’d be under better circumstances. I mean, I guess no one really wants to get stuck with set up duty, but…”</p><p>“I suppose it was…tolerable.”</p><p>“Tolerable enough to be the chaperone on my advanced math field trip to see some actual mathematicians at work? I promise, Nate Silver is not included.”</p><p>Cat narrows her eyes. “Put it in writing, and I might just agree.”</p><p>Kara beams. “As luck would have it, the chaperone consent form is already typed, printed, and ready for you to sign in my classroom.”</p><p>With a sigh, Cat waves Kara towards the wing of the school that she vaguely remembers a tour guide calling the math annex. As she follows Kara, she tries desperately not to notice the way her pants hug her thighs. She wonders how good her legs might look in a properly tailored pair of pants. Or no pants.</p><p>“Here we are!” Kara veers into one of the rooms and drops her bag on the desk, then rustles through one of her drawers, finally emerging with a copy of the form.</p><p>“When is this trip?” Cat can already feel the anticipatory migraine building.</p><p>“Three weeks from tomorrow. A Friday.”</p><p>Cat hums as she skims through the details. She wouldn’t admit it aloud, but she’s fairly impressed by some of the names on the list. Maybe Kara made some useful connections while getting all those degrees plural.</p><p>“Is that okay?” Kara asks.</p><p>“I’m sure my staff will rejoice at the idea of a whole day without me.”</p><p>Kara tilts her head to the side, considering Cat for a long moment. Finally, she shrugs. “Their loss, my gain.”</p><p>“Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear, but I’ve already agreed.”</p><p>“Not flattery. Just honesty. I’m sure the kids’ll benefit from your being there.” She’s bold enough to wink at Cat. “Just think of all the incisive questions you’ll have—gotta keep those mathematicians on their toes.”</p><p>“Well, I’m sure you’re…adequate yourself.”</p><p>Kara laughs loudly. “High praise from Cat Grant. But I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that Mrs. Isaacson will be back soon. The field trip’s actually my last day here.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>Kara hums in assent.</p><p>“Well, Carter at least will miss you.”</p><p>“Yeah? He’s a great kid. I’ll miss him, too.”</p><p>“Perhaps…he might like to keep in touch.” Cat bites the inside of her cheek. She’s not sure what it is about this woman that makes her talk too much, makes her agree to things like taking bus rides with middle schoolers and touching sticky cafeteria tables.</p><p>Kara worries her lower lip between her teeth, hesitating for a long moment before asking, “Just him?”</p><p>“I believe anything else would be highly imprudent.”</p><p>Chastised, Kara takes a large step back and busies herself with the papers stacked on her desk. “Of course, I apologize, I’m—”</p><p>“Not that it would be after the school day ends three weeks from tomorrow, of course.”</p><p>Kara stops mid-ramble. Snaps her mouth closed. Blinks at Cat. “Oh?”</p><p>Cat tries for nonchalant as she shrugs her shoulders and gathers her coat and bag. “Perhaps.”</p><p>“Oh. Well.” Kara misses nonchalant by a mile. “Perhaps I can lift some more tables for you then. You know, when it wouldn’t be…imprudent for you to appreciate it so openly.”</p><p>Cat chokes on nothing.</p><p>Kara beams. “Have a good rest of your day, Ms. Grant!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to the wonderful organizers of the supercat general danvers week!</p><p>I'm on Twitter and Tumblr @sapphicscholar</p></blockquote></div></div>
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